


The Place Where I'm Free

by ThePraxianWeasleyGeek



Series: Christmas Giftfics 2015 [2]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: (because all Gems go by 'she'), F/F, Gemformers AU, Pre-Relationship, Prounoun Switch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:36:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5594965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePraxianWeasleyGeek/pseuds/ThePraxianWeasleyGeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A certain Violet Spinel joins a rebellion, changes her name, and obtains a roommate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Place Where I'm Free

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Artemis_Crimson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Crimson/gifts).



> Clara asked for this for Christmas - it's a week late, but I got there in the end! 
> 
> The story takes place in our Gemformers AU: the Homeworld Senate, headed by the Diamonds, takes the place of Cybertron's Functionalists, but there's a rebellion brewing against them. It's headed, as you might expect, by a Bloodstone who's named herself Megatron - but unlike typical TF continuities, she has a partner in crime in the form of Optimus, a young, runaway Blue Diamond who was previously being raised to take over if the old one snuffed it. Basically, that means the 'Bots and 'Cons are both on the same side and fighting together for the control of Homeworld.
> 
> This story begins the tale of how Cyclonus and Tailgate fit into the picture.

Upon registering with the rebellion, new recruits received three things: a placement in a unit; a small space to call their own for spending downtime, shared with a couple of other individuals; and a chance to change one's name.

The Violet Spinel, who had guarded her planet's Senate for her entire existence so far, considered the last option in particular equal parts tempting and disconcerting. The former two weren't much different from the setup she'd faced at her birth, and her duties had dragged her into enough military campaigns since then that this one didn't feel any different on the surface.

The third point was new, though. She couldn't shake the feeling that taking a name would be a betrayal not just of the Senate, who she knew to be corrupt and no longer worth her time - but also of her Homeworld, which she loved enough to have fought for time and again despite who commanded her.

Then again, this lot were fighting for the Homeworld too; for how they thought it should be. And she wouldn't be sat in these ramshackle underground barracks right now if she didn't agree with them - or, at least, agree that they both disagreed with the Senate.

In the end, she settled on Cyclonus. She'd heard the name during the conquest of an alien world, and rather liked the sound of it.

Her unit consisted of a couple of other Spinels of various colouring, a Charoite or two, some largely blue soldiers whose gems she couldn't identify... and her superiors: a Blue Iolite calling herself Scourge, and an Amethyst who went by Galvatron. She'd managed to impress the last two with her sword work in her very first training session (as well she should; she'd been doing it all her life), and she got the distinct impression she'd caught Scourge's eye in more than a merely professional manner.

As much as this ragtag, thrown-together militia could be called professional, in any case.

It was with these thoughts, and the resultant sour expression, that she came to be traversing the corridors of the base after training - in search of the final item on the induction list. Her designated space was _somewhere_ in this warren of passages and cubbyholes, but she'd honestly be surprised to find it before getting called in for duty again.

"You looking for someone, Smiler?" A small, squat Red Jasper grinned up at her from a nearby seat, arms tucked over her raised knees. She had a bandage wrapped around one shoulder. Cyclonus turned a glare on her and she visibly quailed before, perhaps too late, the Spinel realised it might be prudent to ask for help.

"I'm looking for slot F12," she said, expression softening a little.

"Oh." Still looking a little rattled, the Jasper bit her lip in thought. "Wait, you're new? I wouldn't have guessed that. I mean"-

"'Course she's new!" a harsher voice interrupted. "Look at that fancy Senate Guard uniform! You're not gonna last long wearing that, lemme tell you."

Cyclonus turned and came face to face with a lanky Ammolite. Her gem's colouring leaned towards the green end of the spectrum, but the truly curious thing was that aside from her mouth, it was the only other feature on her face.

"I can give you a taster, if you like." She flexed her wiry arms.

"Whirl..." the Jasper protested feebly.

"Can it, short stuff. I've got a lesson to teach. You've probably never seen a proper fight in your life, have you?" she demanded of Cyclonus. "Ornaments, that's all you lot are nowadays."

Cyclonus snarled and was about to bite out a reply, before yet another gem entered the conversation.

"Whirl, I thought I already spoke with you about harassing the new recruits."

Whirl backed up immediately, managing to look extremely abashed considering her limited range of expression. A skinny, unassuming Amber was advancing along the corridor, wearing an expression of such practiced disappointment that even Cyclonus felt as though she should be apologising for something.

The actual guilty party muttered something that sounded vaguely contrite, and scarpered.

"She didn't hurt you, did she?" the Amber asked, clasping her hands against her skirt. "Whirl's a formidable force in combat, but she tends to view... _controlling_ her skills as unnecessary."

"She didn't get the chance," Cyclonus replied, inclining her head by way of thanks. The Amber gave a relieved smile, eyes bright and sincere behind her glasses.

"And Swerve? You seem okay, but"-

"I'm fine!" the Jasper replied, stretching her legs out and spreading her arms for inspection. "Whirl wouldn't do anything to me, anyway. She just doesn't trust newcomers much."

The Amber nodded and turned back to Cyclonus. "I'm Rung. I'd guess a 'welcome aboard' is in order."

"Cyclonus." The Spinel seized on a new chance to locate her cubbyhole. "I don't suppose you know where slot F12 is?"

* * *

F12 turned out to be located in a dead end: a small, roughly circular space, tucked in behind a mess of pipe work down one side and a slightly faded curtain on the other. Pushing the once-bright, gauzy fabric aside, Cyclonus discovered that one of the seats was already occupied.

The gem was engrossed in a thick, elaborately bound book, swinging her stubby legs a few inches from the ground. Her colouring was mostly pale blue from what Cyclonus could see; although the hair that fell in soft waves over her shoulders was entirely white. She didn't look up as the Spinel squeezed her way into the slot, absently licking her thumb to turn a page.

Cyclonus wasn't about to disturb her. She had little desire to engage in small talk, and even less desire to befriend her new roommate. The little thing wasn't even part of the Spinel's own unit - which was either due to slapdash management, or some misguided aim to foster camaraderie within the ranks as a whole.

This was not, in Cyclonus' considerable experience, the way to run a successful rebellion. She almost regretted signing up, before remembering the alternative once again. The Senate no longer upheld the integrity of Homeworld's traditions - that, at least, was an area in which the rebels had the advantage.

The gem sitting across from Cyclonus glanced up to scratch at her nub of a nose - and jumped rather violently, dropping the book as her eyes went wide behind her visor.

"Oh! Wow, I didn't hear you come in - must've been concentrating harder than I thought." She blinked, once, apparently taking in Cyclonus' dour demeanour. "You're... you're my slot-mate, then, I guess?"

Her last words came out on a bit of a squeak as Cyclonus's frown sharpened. The Spinel felt a slight sense of incredulity that this fluffy little creature had passed muster to be admitted into an _army_.

"We've been assigned the same slot, yes." The alteration of the smaller gem's words was deliberate: there would be no friendships or attachments developing if Cyclonus could help it, and 'slot-mate' was on its way into that territory.

The other gem stood to retrieve her book, and Cyclonus caught a glimpse of a large, circular aqua-coloured gem set into her stomach. Her staring was apparently noticed.

"I didn't introduce myself, did I? I mean, that was partly 'cause you snuck in here and made me jump, but..." The little gem shook herself slightly. "I'm Tailgate. Aquamarine. I used to work at the spaceport before I signed up here."

"Cyclonus." The Spinel turned away, tucking her knees up to her chin much like Swerve had earlier. After a moment, a nagging sense of being watched made her look back round. "What?"

Tailgate seemed to be expecting more information, if her inquisitive gaze was anything to go by. Cyclonus flashed the back of her hand irritably, displaying the small, diamond-shaped stone located there.

"Violet Spinel, former Senate Guard."

"Wow, really?" Tailgate's eyes went wide again. "I should've guessed, with the uniform. Bet you've seen loads of action offworld, huh? And you'll probably get promoted really quick, too - you guys are supposed to be the best of the best."

Tailgate's assessment irked Cyclonus even more than Whirl's had - mostly because the Ammolite had at least been closer to the truth. It was a truth Cyclonus had come to accept, and then to despise; it had been part of why she left. Nowadays, those recruited into the Guard were chosen based on the nature of their gem rather than any demonstrable skill. Cyclonus had been the last Spinel left on the force, amidst crowds of Garnets and Jaspers brought straight in from being manufactured.

To calculate the effectiveness of that, one only had to look at Megatron: the rebellion's Bloodstone co-leader had masqueraded as a Garnet in the Diamond Compound for months, if stories were to be believed. Highly illegal, but nobody had suspected a thing, and the warrior had coaxed the two young Diamonds housed there into escaping and joining her cause. With a proper recruitment system in place, that never would have happened.

The Senate Guard was no longer the pinnacle of prowess Tailgate held it up as, and unless she'd been harvested yesterday she really ought to know that already. Her chatter didn't cease, however, even with Cyclonus' lack of response.

"Oh my gosh - if you're part of the Guard does that mean you've met the Diamonds?"

"Careful," Cyclonus grunted. "Idolising the Diamond regime down here isn't clever."

"Not _those_ Diamonds - our ones. Before they united with Megatron, I mean."

"I thought there was only the blue one."

"Well yeah, officially." And here came the most precious and simultaneously most common commodity to be found in any barracks - gossip. "But there were two Diamonds that went missing, right? They'd had a Pink one as well. And Rewind (you'll like Rewind, everyone does; she's a Hematite, so she used to work for the media and she's really friendly), well, she says the Rose Quartz heading up Medical doesn't look exactly like a Quartz, if you get what I'm saying."

"An abnormality in her gem, perhaps. They happen."

"Sure they do," Tailgate said dismissively, full of worldly wisdom. "But how many Quartzes have healing tears?"

That, Cyclonus grudgingly admitted, was interesting - if it was true. "You've seen her use them, then?"

"No," Tailgate confessed. "But Rewind says she's got a projection of it somewhere."

 _Conspiracy theories and rumours,_ Cyclonus thought to herself. She didn't voice that aloud, though; it'd only encourage Tailgate. And Tailgate didn't need encouraging. She was the epitome of every young, self-assured idealist Cyclonus had encountered on her various missions, and harsh though it was the Spinel didn't give her long before she was shattered.

All the more reason not to get attached, she supposed. There'd be a replacement in soon enough.

Of course, she herself had once been like that - but she'd grown out of it quickly, as it was necessary for her survival. Cyclonus doubted if Tailgate would develop that ability in time for it to save her, and against Cyclonus' better judgement the thought did give her a twinge of regret.

Her point duly made, Tailgate had finally lapsed into silence; Cyclonus got the feeling she was expected to continue their conversation, and was weighing up whether to take the initiative when a small, portable screen next to Tailgate began to flash. The light was turquoise - in response, the little Aquamarine jumped up and slammed her book down on her seat.

"Oh, that's me up for training!" She scrabbled around in her side of the slot before producing a blunted practice sword, eyeing it critically. "My weapon's a dagger, really, but that's not much use in a proper battle. And just so you know - if that thing goes purple, it means you're wanted on duty again. Bye!"

With that, she scurried through the curtain, shouting for her previously-mentioned friend: "Rewind! We're up, so you can quit getting all schmoopy with Domey! I swear you two should just fuse for good, or something."

Cyclonus knew fusion was more than accepted within the resistance, but it was still a surprise to hear it mentioned so casually.

Perhaps more surprising was how empty the slot suddenly felt without Tailgate. The Aquamarine had already established herself as chatty, naive, and almost cocky - which were normally traits that got right under Cyclonus' skin. But she'd also managed to retain some sense of wonder about the world for however long she'd been alive; everything about her screamed 'idealist', not 'realist', and with the current political climate it was rare to find anyone who still felt optimistic about change.

... Until Cyclonus had gone and surrounded herself with those types, she supposed. Still, Tailgate was her first real taster of that sort of mindset in ages; and the Spinel was concerned to feel a kernel of protectiveness growing somewhere deep inside her gem.

Best not to nurture that. It wouldn't be long, she was sure, before that screen ceased glowing aqua now and then.


End file.
